


Moonrise Over the City of Rain

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Android!Tvbb0, Cybergrunge setting, Drug Mentions, Investigator!Ranb00, Kip's Fics, M/M, Mystery, No Smut, Postwar Setting, Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, drug usage, honestly i’m having fun with this one and that’s all that matters to me, mature themes, oop i put mature themes and then didn't say anything else, possible depictions of violence, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Honest but reproachful private investigator Ranboo is met with an interesting case when he’s approached by an android who calls himself Tubbo, and is asked for his help to solve the case of Tubbo’s missing friend.Ranboo finds that he might’ve gotten in over his head, and is fighting feelings for someone he knows he’s not supposed to like.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47
Collections: Anonymous





	Moonrise Over the City of Rain

It was a grey and muggy brown day in the city of Falvok, the air sick and heavy with rain, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. In a place plagued by storms, torrential downpours, and lighting that could take out the power in the lower boroughs in a single snap, anything less than a drizzle was a blessing. 

In the midst stark oppressive steel of the buildings that rose high above the skyline, there were bright neons of the red light districts, and the downtown with its narrow streets and signs in all sorts of languages. There were the slums just a few layers beneath the city in the abandoned areas of the sewers and the city transit system that had not so long before been used as bases of operations for a failed rebellion. Then there were the more normal places that the common population lived, apartment buildings made of brick, streets with dwindling greenspace, parks that had long been taken over by the growing transient population, with grass turned brown muddy from the constant drizzle.

It was in a space pressed between these others, across from the bustle of downtown, near but not close to all of the popular spots, was where one of the more reputable private investigators worked. Compared to the best, he ranked maybe mid-tier, not notable much in appearance except for perhaps his height. Most reported that he donned a standard black suit and tie, a gas mask stained with two different colors, a pair of circular tinted glasses, and an untamable mop of hair the color of cooling carmel. 

He was called Ranboo, though it was clear that that wasn’t his real name, and rather, something he must’ve picked up during his time in combat. It wasn’t rare for people to change their names and slip away from who they were before, especially in a position like his. 

There hadn’t been much resembling a functional local law enforcement since the war had ended. Crime was left to be dealt with by whoever took up the mantle, and the most the government afforded to do that was anything less dangerous than terrorist threats was clean-up crews of androids and cyborgs under servitude. Simply, if you wanted the murder of a loved one solved right, you could shell out a few hundred Units to an investigator to at least get some closure. A few more and they might even deal with the cupruit personally. 

Ranboo wasn’t the fighting type, not unless he had to. He still had his Opnum 76, issued to him when he was drafted as a foot soldier. He had always tried his best not to use it, but the streets at night could be deadly unless you had the comforting hum and the dull orange glow of your semi-automatic by your side. 

Life was quiet, but not the sort that put you at ease, it was the sort that fell across oceans before they rose up like monsters and ate towns with a single gulp. Ranboo hands had been shaking since he was discharged, and they hadn’t gotten any better since. He would occasionally light up a Foggy, a thin, long piece of peace-of-mind, or paper wrapped around enough low grade Ampherzine to get even the twitchiest bastards into a state of calm. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, it was dreary, but dreary days were usually calm. The downpour speckled his windows, dripping down in long sheets that looked like lines of melted candy, the faint color of barely steeped tea. There was a record playing in the corner, something old and faint, worn out with age. A lamp to his right on the corner of the desk illuminated the grey interior with a faint amber light, and a small heater on the floor blew warm air onto his legs, the long bands glowing the same, eerie orange as the weapon at his side.

His first and only client of the day entered into his office just before noon, with a brief knock at the door. Ranboo had remembered it was noon, as he’d been counting down those few minutes before the rain was supposed to lessen, and he could make his way a few blocks down to grab lunch at the local Mondic place down the street without getting drenched. 

The prospective client was small and boyish, but the color in his skin was too smooth, growing just too perfectly rosey at his cheeks. He dressed well, an emerald green sweater, with a clean white collar leaking out around his neck, and a pair of unstained, freshly pressed corduroy pants. Ranboo betted that if he looked down, the boy would have on a pair of penny colored shoes that looked like they had been taken right out of the box. A satchel hung over his shoulder, and he had one hand over the strap protectively.

His expression was drawn with worry, soft eyes, short fluffy brown hair. He looked like he might’ve been stripped right out of a Menagaerie's catalogue for sickos who liked banging robots. Ranboo had pegged him as being inhuman the second he’d walked in, but a single flick of his eyes to the boy’s neck, and he could easily spot the charging point just a few inches below his left ear. Not hidden well at all, he clearly didn’t care about his status as an android. 

This meant one of two things, he  _ was _ an Escort model, and one of his many esteemed and clearly  _ mature _ colleagues in the field had sent him this as some sort of hazing prank, or this guy had enough money to just...not to care about his status. If robots like him could even care at all. 

“You’re Ranboo, right?” The guy’s voice was accented, though that wasn’t a rarity in Falvok. The gentle, tender, fearful nature of it was.

“Mhm.” 

“And you do investigative work, right?”

“Yes I do,” he folded his hands over his stomach. Ranboo was still half-expecting this to be a joke. 

“It’s just, they told me that you were one of the good ones.” He paused for a moment. “And that you were the most likely not to shoot me on sight.” 

“Yeah.” If he had a reputation...at least it was that he wasn’t quick to the gun. “What exactly do you want?” 

“My name is Tubbo, or…” he let out a breath. “2-BB-O. That’s my model.” 

Ranboo furrowed his brow. He’d spent most of his time during the war memorizing every make and model of android, cybernetic enhancement, and personal electronic robot on the market, and this one was a first to not be familiar to him. Ranboo made an upward gesture with his chin, and another with his hand to the seat in front of the desk. “Not familiar. What were you made to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I get that a lot.” The android, Tubbo, he called himself, gave him a slight smile and a nod as he pulled the chair out and sat down. “And Iwork at a club downtown for my guardian, but-”

“Pleasure-droid?” Ranboo raised an eyebrow. 

“No, no, no,” Tubbo held his hands up. “I was going to say I wasn’t meant for anything, but I work as an entertainer. I sing. Besides, my guardian says I’m much too young to do any of that.” 

“Androids don’t age, and besides.” Ranboo sat forward. “Don’t people like them young these days?” 

“Well that’s pretty rude,” Tubbo wrinkled his nose. “And no, my guardian doesn’t see me that way.” 

“And who’s your guardian?” Ranboo raised an eyebrow, letting out a huff.

“I don’t have to answer any of  _ your _ questions.  _ I _ want to hire  _ you _ after all. I ask you the questions here, pretty boy.”

The sudden change in tone took him off guard and he let out a cough. “Um, sorry.” He wasn’t sure anyone had ever called him something that before.

“I just want to know if you can help me with a missing persons case.”

“It depends-”

“On what?”

Ranboo drew in a long breath. “I don’t mean to be antagonistic, I’m sorry, just an old holdover.” He made slow eye contact with Tubbo. The android’s eyes were fierce, but there was a very human concern behind them. Whatever the heck this android was, Ranboo didn’t want to be around it for long. “And it would also depend on certain things, no matter who came in here, with a case like that. How long they’ve been missing, who they might’ve been involved with. Most importantly I need to know how much you’re willing to pay.”

Tubbo’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Anything.”

“Well-”

“I mean it. Anything. I’ve got the money.” Tubbo pulled a palm sized cell from his pocket, and slid it towards Ranboo. On it, he could see the current Unit counter. He’d never seen numbers that big in any place except his imagination. 

“Holy...yeah I guess you can pay, alright.”

Tubbo pulled a file from his bag, it was one of those newer models, about the size of an old currency coin, and when he tapped it, it expanded into a wide glowing blue page. 

“Where the hell did you say you worked?” Ranboo ran a hand along the outside. It was cool to the touch. No glitches or anything, could’ve been manufactured yesterday.

“This is everything I could get.” 

There was a photo of a boy who looked about the same age as Tubbo presented, though he had scars across his face, and bared a grin with several teeth knocked out. His hair was a messy blond, and both of his eyes were the unnatural blue that presented following having cybernetic enhancements. Based on his age and the size, Ranboo estimated they must’ve been a D1sK-Optic model. The kid probably fought on the side of the rebellion. Off the bat, it wasn’t a good sign. 

“Tommy went missing about three days ago. That’s him, the photo in the file. I thought it was normal at first, him being gone. Sometimes disappears for a few days, he goes to where one of his friends died...y’know, during the war...but he always sends me a VM before he goes.” Tubbo pressed a hand into his cheek. “I didn’t think anything of it, but once I realized he wasn’t returning my calls, I knew I had to find someone to do something about it.” 

Ranboo flipped through the pages provided. This android really hadn’t been short on any of the details, there was basically everything he would ask a preliminary witness, everything he would try to bribe and sanction from nearby security camera operators. “Is it in your programming to protect this Tommy kid?” 

“Uh, no, but he’s my best friend, and if anything were to happen to him…” Tubbo’s shoulders sunk. “I’d never forgive myself.” 

“This is gonna cost you a lot.”

“I’ll pay, I told you.” 

Ranboo nodded, “good.” He stood, and pulled his own beaten up burner from his pocket. “Then I want you to wire me 5,000 Units off the bat.” Ranboo expected Tubbo to flinch, to double back on his promise, but he watched the android type something into his device, and tap it against Ranboo’s. He waited for it to decline, for something to go wrong, but it gave the little,  _ plink-plink-ping _ , as the transaction went through. 

“Are we good?” Tubbo looked up at him with those doe eyes. They were brown, at least in this light, and so friendly and warm that Ranboo was forced to remind himself that they were just painted to look at him that way. Glossy, and almost human, an emphasis on the almost. Every part of him was programmed, synthetic, he wasn’t any more human than the 747-Cleaner robots; at least they didn’t try to dress up those to fool anyone. 

“We are.”

Tubbo stood apprehensively. “When do you start?”

Ranboo pulled his coat over himself, and pulled the gas mask that hung around his nose up over his face. “As soon as I spend your money on lunch.” 

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO GANG I AM BACK   
> sorry about the wait, work got busy, but ANYWAY. HERE I AM.  
> (ebblr come follow me at kip-a03-ebs) :)


End file.
